


Too Much (Give Me More)

by pringlesaremydivision



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Begging, Electricity, Improvised Sex Toys, M/M, Mild Painplay, Overstimulation, erotic crying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-31 21:02:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6487285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pringlesaremydivision/pseuds/pringlesaremydivision
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“You want this too?” Link asks, holding up that ridiculous little blue car, and Rhett nods, licking dry lips and biting back a gasp when Link places it right on the divot of his sternum, between his pecs.</i>
</p><p>Based on GMM 894, Testing Weird Massage Products.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Much (Give Me More)

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the delightful reactions in [GMM 894 - Testing Weird Massage Products](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZN4NFwmI86I). A huge shout-out to [thefoolishdeer](http://archiveofourown.org/users/thefoolishdeer/pseuds/thefoolishdeer), whose excellent Dan Avidan/Barry Kramer fic [The Current](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5302748) introduced me to the concept of e-stim/electroplay in the first place, and endless thanks to my pumpkin [threefootroo](http://threefootroo.tumblr.com/) for her super-quick beta and her endless encouragement of my filth.

Link lays Rhett down on the too-small massage table, stripped down to his altogether while Link stays fully clothed, erection pressing against the zip of his jeans just at the sight of him. Rhett’s long legs hang off the edge, his head tipped back, eyes half-lidded in anticipation, sweaty palms that flex and grip the sides of the table on alternate breaths.

Link places the pads of the TENS unit on either side of his dick, two pads on his pubic bone right above his neatly-trimmed thatch of golden curls, the other two further down on his inner thighs, the white patches framing Rhett’s cock as it thickens and swells. “You want this too?” Link asks, holding up that ridiculous little blue car, and Rhett nods, licking dry lips and biting back a gasp when Link places it right on the divot of his sternum, between his pecs. When Link flicks on the tingle fingers, he can’t help the shuddery moan he lets out, the spindly arms brushing against his nipples on every spin, an aching tease. His chest rumbles with the motion and Link shakes his head, tapping the buttons again until the whirring dies down and the toy is motionless again.

“If you move too much and this falls, you don’t get to come, got it?” Link smooths back Rhett’s hair from his forehead, and his face is a careful mask of calm but there’s fire in his bright blue eyes. Rhett nods again, groaning helplessly into Link’s mouth when Link bends and kisses him, soft lips warm, reassuring. “You can tap out any time, okay?” Link murmurs against his mouth, and the concern in his voice is evident even though it’s already gone low and husky with arousal.

“I know,” Rhett says, and he does, because this whole thing was his idea to start with. Worked up and needy after the weird massagers episode, desperate for release after the onslaught of sensation he’d been subjected to, he’d begged Link to put him through it again, and Link had been happy to oblige. Link kisses him once more, then flips on the WheeMe again, smiling at Rhett’s giggly gasp.

“I’m gonna start the TENS unit on the lowest setting and keep pushing it higher until you tell me you don’t want it,” Link says, sitting back on the couch with his legs spread, remote in one hand, the other rubbing absently over the bulge in his jeans. He pushes a button and a zing of electricity goes through Rhett’s pelvis, making him jerk his hips hard. Link raises his eyebrow. “Gosh, Rhett, really? Too much already?”

“No,” Rhett gulps, “it— _hoo!_ —it’s like gettin’ pinched, like somethin’s bitin’ me—turn it up, ’s gotta go higher.” The muscles in his thighs are already jumping as he struggles to keep from thrusting up, and a drop of precome dribbles from the tip of his cock, dripping onto his tanned stomach. Link licks his lips and turns both dials up to five.

There’s a thin sheen of sweat covering Rhett’s torso and a flush traveling down from his cheeks and onto his chest, a warm rosy pink that suits him nicely. At five, Link knows from experience, the zaps start to feel less like pinpricks and more like a continuous buzzing, like a vibrator under the skin. The way the pads on Rhett’s thighs are placed, there’s a current going straight through his balls, while the pads on his pubic bone are stimulating the muscles underneath and around his dick. The sensation was strong enough on Link’s biceps when they filmed the episode that he wants to wince in sympathy, but Rhett’s got a hazy-eyed, delirious look on his face that makes it seem like he’s riding a high, completely unaware of the world around him.

Rhett’s letting out a continuous stream of whimpers and giggles, wriggling his lower body, seeking friction that isn’t there, while making a concerted effort to keep his chest still. He sounds wrecked, torn in too many different directions, tiny nipples hard as the WheeMe continues to flick against them, thick cock twitching and drooling precome, making a mess of his clenching stomach. Link’s mouth waters.

“How you feelin’, baby?” he asks, pressing his palm down against his erection, eyes fluttering briefly shut at the pressure. He wants so badly to reach out and touch Rhett, wrap his lips around Rhett’s dick and taste him, climb on top of that long body and ride until Rhett fills him up with come, but this—it isn’t about him. So he palms himself, and watches Rhett squirm.

Rhett cuts a glance over at Link, eyes dark and wide, and Link’s shocked to see tears pooling at the corners of them, sparkling in the bright overhead lights. “It’s so much,” he chokes out, panting, his chest heaving. “Oh—it’s so—my nipples are raw, they hurt—”

“You want me to turn it off?” Link stands, hand hovering above the toy, waiting, but Rhett stubbornly shakes his head, drawing in another gulp of air before letting it out in a moan. A few tears fall from his left eye but he ignores them, and Link wonders if he even knows he’s on the verge of crying. He’s never thought crying could be erotic but seeing Rhett like this, wet and messy and strung-out, completely unselfconscious in his neediness, has him reconsidering his views.

“No, it feels good, it’s real good, I want—gimme more, Link, please, I wanna keep going—”

Link complies before Rhett’s finished speaking, turning the dial leading to the upper pads up to eight. The reaction is immediate and stunning—Rhett throws his head back and _wails,_ high and desperate, the kind of sound Link’s never heard him make before, hips thrusting wildly into the air, making his dick slap against his stomach wetly.

“Ah—AH, fuck, Link, it’s so much, it—fuck, fuck, fuck—”

Link groans, unzipping his jeans and shoving a hand down his underwear, jerking his cock roughly. Tears are falling freely from Rhett’s eyes now, wet pink mouth hanging open as he tries to draw in enough breath, and Link’s never seen anything so filthy or so beautiful in his whole life.

On the table, Rhett’s thrashing his head back and forth, his hands gripping the edges white-knuckled to try and keep still, but between his hips and the movement of his head, the damage is done, and with a clatter the WheeMe falls from his chest and onto the floor, tingle fingers twitching feebly where it lands. They both stare at it for a moment, unblinking, then Rhett lets out a sob, squeezing his eyes shut tight and gasping.

“No, please, Link, I’m so close, I’m so—please let me come please please _please_ —” and Link can tell it’s the truth, Rhett’s balls pulled up tight against his body, the head of his cock red and shiny, and soft shushing noises are coming out of Link’s mouth before he even realizes he’s doing it.

“Shh, baby, shh, shh, I’m gonna let you come, you’re gonna come all over yourself for me, you’re doing so good, you’re gonna come without even being touched, aren’t you?” Link pulls his hand out of his pants and bends down, pressing soft little kisses against Rhett’s tear-streaked face, stroking his cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. Rhett breathes shuddery and uneven, hips still moving restlessly, but Link can tell he’s starting to calm down. “That’s it, Rhett, it’s okay, baby. You want me to turn it up, or take it off?”

“Turn it up, I need to come, I’m so—fuuu-uck I’m so close.” Now that he’s gotten used to the intensity of the electric pulses jolting through him, Rhett’s voice is lower, back to his normal register but with the vowels drawn out and a little slurred, making him sound half-drunk. “‘m sorry, I didn't mean to knock that off me, I was tryin’ to stay still, I was—ahhhHHH!”

His voice raises again in pitch and in volume as Link turns the dial on the upper pads all the way to the limit, then flicks the setting for the lower pads to seven. Rhett's legs both start to spasm, thighs twitching wildly, and there's a split second where it seems like every muscle in his body contracts simultaneously. Then, with a wordless, animal cry, he's coming, untouched cock shooting thick white ropes that hit his collarbone and splatter across his flushed chest. Link quickly dials back the lower pads until they're off completely, but only takes the upper pads back down to a four, watching as another weak spurt dribbles down the length of Rhett’s dick. 

“Stop, oh—oh, stop, it's too much, turn it off, please—” Rhett begs, hips stuttering and jerking with a combination of the aftershocks of his orgasm and the low current still running through his pelvis. Part of Link wants to push him further, keep this going, see if Rhett could get hard and come again, but the frantic look in Rhett’s wide eyes has him quickly dialing down the upper pads until the machine is completely off. Rhett draws in a gulp of air, mutters a quiet “thank you,” and then goes silent but for the sound of his heavy breathing.

Link runs his hand through Rhett’s sweaty hair, pushing it back from where it’s stuck to his temples, and kisses his forehead. “That was incredible, Rhett, you did so good, my gosh.” He continues to murmur encouragement, soft words of praise that bring a dreamy smile to Rhett’s slack mouth. His cock throbs in his open jeans, aching for attention, but he ignores it for now. “You came so hard, baby, looked so intense. Did it feel good?”

Rhett mumbles his assent in a voice so quiet Link can barely hear him, but it’s clear what he’s saying is positive, the languid lines of his body relaying an utter lack of tension. He’s loose, drowsy, eyes drooping closed, looking completely at peace despite the tear tracks that have dried on his face. If Link doesn’t do something fast, he’s liable to fall asleep right on the massage table, and while he looks comfortable now, Link knows it won’t be doing his back any favors. Zipping his pants with a wince, he runs Rhett’s discarded shirt over the mess on his stomach and chest, then gently nudges his shoulder until Rhett makes a grumbly, questioning noise.

“Come on, just gotta get down here, okay? Just swing your legs over and get on the couch and you can rest. I’ll get you some water.” He keeps a steadying hand on Rhett’s shoulder as the man stands, knees wobbly and weak like a newborn fawn. It’s only a few steps to the couch and then Rhett’s collapsing onto his stomach, face turned out to the side, smushed into the soft leather of the cushion. Link tugs a blanket down from the back of the couch and spreads it over him, smiling at the way it leaves his feet and ankles bare, then goes to the kitchen for a bottle of water.

By the time he returns, only a few minutes later, Rhett is snoring peacefully.

Chuckling, Link sets the water down on the table beside the couch and heads for the bathroom to finish himself off. Maybe next time, he thinks as he tugs his cock roughly, his other hand braced against the wall to keep him upright, he can convince Rhett to put one of those vibrating prostate massagers in his ass, too.

He comes with a grunt, spilling over his fingers, the speed of his orgasm taking him by surprise. After he washes his hands he pulls his jeans all the way off, leaving them in a heap by the sink, then pads back into their office, gently rolling Rhett onto his side and snuggling in close beside him, Rhett’s arm coming down across his waist, warm and familiar. As he’s drifting off to sleep, he makes a mental note to rate both the TENS unit and the WheeMe five out of five stars on Amazon when he wakes up.


End file.
